


Keep Safe

by ultimatebellarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimatebellarke/pseuds/ultimatebellarke
Summary: Bellamy is hurt, and Clarke is out of her mind.





	

“You look terrible.”

Clarke lifts her head to see a very displeased Raven. She stands over Clarke with her arms crossed, eyebrow cocked.

Clarke frowns at the mechanic. “Right now, my appearance isn’t at the top of my priorities list.”

Raven’s eyebrow lifts higher. “When was the last time you slept?”

Clarke blinks. Well, not last night, she’d been out here. And not the night before, when she’d spent her time trying to get back inside. Maybe the one before last—

“See,” Raven says, “if you have to think about it, it’s been too long.”

“I’m fine,” Clarke says. 

“No, you’re not.” Raven’s face minutely softens. “I know you’re worried about him, Clarke.”

Clarke wants to laugh. Worry. Worry doesn’t even begin to describe what she feels at the moment. It feels like chains, long and metal, are wound around her chest, squeezing tighter with each passing second. She doesn’t know if she’ll can breathe normally again. 

“Sitting outside his tent instead of sleeping, and jeopardizing your own damn health isn’t going to make it better.” Raven says, “It’s not what Bellamy would’ve wanted.”

Clarke’s jaw clenches as her eyes begin to sting. His name has effects she cannot prepare for. Damn eyes. Damn tears. 

She lifts her chin and does what she knows best. “I’m fine,” she lies. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Raven scowls. “Yeah? Well, too late. I’m worried. And I’m not moving until your ass is in bed.”

“How can I sleep, Raven?” Clarke’s voice rises to a desperate pitch before she can get it in control. She tries to collect herself, she really does, but after three straight days of unreeling strain, she can’t stop the words. “He’s in there, bleeding out, and I was supposed to protect him, I was supposed to keep him from getting hurt, and now there’s a bullet in him—he—I can't—” She at last clamps her mouth, gritting her teeth, forcing herself to breathe. Damn her eyes, damn these tears. 

Raven drops to her knees in front of Clarke, wrapping her hands around Clarke’s own, clenched into fists. Clarke doesn’t meet her eyes.

Raven says, “You did the best you can.”

Clarke shakes her head. Whatever she did, it was not good enough. Under her watch, he’d ended up with a bullet in him. She’d let him get hurt. She’d let him bleed. "I can’t even see him.” Clark scowls, wanting to punch something, someone. Mostly herself. “My mother—”

"Your mother is right,” Raven snaps. “You weren’t doing anyone good in there. What you need—”

A moan – loud and pained and unmistakably Bellamy’s – escapes from the flap of the tent. And Clark is on her feet, no further invitation required. "Bellamy!” She calls his name even before she sees him, struggling to sit up on the mat despite Abby’s best efforts to get him to recline. His face is twisted in pain—the expression is so wrong, so out of place, but he’s alive. He’s awake, at last, he is alive, he is here, he is with her.

Clarke meets her mother’s desperate eyes. No words are required; Abby moves to let Clarke take her place. Clarke presses gently on Bellamy’s shoulder. “Bellamy, you have to lie down. You have to stay still." 

At her voice, his head snaps to Clarke. His eyes are wide with panic, and creases deeply line his forehead. He takes Clark’s free hand and Clarke squeezes, because she’s here. She will always be here. 

The panic in his eyes does not lessen. He says, "Safe?”

“Yes, Bellamy. You’re home, you’re safe.”

He shakes his head, still agitated. “Safe?” he asks again.

It takes her moment. Then another sort of chain squeezes her chest as the realization hits. “Yes, Bellamy,” she whispers. “I’m safe.”

At this his eyes relax. The lines etched into his forehead, Clarke supposes, are there to stay. 

As she realizes Bellamy is beginning to drift off, panic flares within her. “He’s falling back asleep! Mom—”

“It’s alright, Clarke.” Clarke lifts her head to her mother. Abby is watching them, carefully. “It’s the sedatives. If he’s sleeping, he’s not feeling the pain.”

Clarke nods. She isn’t satisfied – she won’t be until he’s on his feet, doing more stupidly heroic things – but she no longer feels out of her own mind. And she is not leaving this spot. Clarke says, “I know you don’t want me in here, but I can calm him down—”

“You can stay,” Abby says. 

Clarke blinks. Oh. “Thank you,” she thinks to say. “I…I need to be here.”

Her mother smiles, giving Clarke a look she received what seems like a lifetime ago. Her mother says, "I know.”


End file.
